


Fódlan's Finest

by seafoamtea



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Getting Together, Golden Deer Route spoilers, M/M, flirting barely disguised as politics, spoilers for claude's backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-02
Updated: 2020-01-06
Packaged: 2020-10-05 11:17:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,409
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20488031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/seafoamtea/pseuds/seafoamtea
Summary: Set after the events of the game, based on their paired ending. Claude and Lorenz have some things to talk about.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> i haven't written fanfic in years but this ship has somehow managed to sink its claws so hard into my brain that here i am, posting claurenz at 3 in the morning. please take it so i can rest

“You… actually want me to take over as leader of the Alliance?” It was a topic they had discussed before, certainly, but Lorenz couldn’t keep the shock off his face as he stared at Claude from across the table.

“I meant what I said,” Claude responded, spoon clinking lightly against the side of his teacup. “It’s going to be a lot of work restoring Fódlan now that the war’s over, but between you and Teach I’m confident I’m leaving the place in good hands.”

Lorenz frowned.

“I don’t like that wording, Claude.” He lifted a hand, leaving it hovering carefully in front of his face. “What are you planning to do, then, with Fódlan out of your hands, as you put it?”

“Oh, you know,” Claude smirked over his cup. “Vanishing. Seems to me like it’s about time.”

Lorenz’s frown deepened.

“When you said that before I assumed you were afraid you were going to die in battle,” he said, his tone clearly indignant. “Not that you were gallivanting off somewhere. Where are you going?”

Claude, frustratingly, took the time to drain the rest of his tea before speaking again.

“Just getting back to something I had always planned on doing,” he finally continued, setting his empty cup back down. “Anyway, thanks for bringing tea. Now that we got that sorted, I should—”

“Claude!” Lorenz stood up so fast he nearly knocked over his chair. “We do not have anything sorted, you did not answer my question, and you are not going anywhere until you explain to me what is going on!”

For a long moment, they stared at each other. They could have cut the tension with a knife.

“Heh. Don’t lose your composure, Lorenz.” Claude settled back, leaning the side of his head gently on his hand. “Doesn’t seem very noble-like.”

“Even I have a limit to my patience, Claude,” Lorenz huffs. “Do not think I don’t notice when you’re dodging a question. You do it every time we talk.”

“Always observant, that Lorenz.” The smile on Claude’s face struck Lorenz as somehow softer than the mischievous grin before it. “But I guess it’s only fair that you know. Just… keep this to yourself, alright?”

“… Noted.” Lorenz sat back down, feeling slightly sheepish about his outburst. Slightly. “Go on.”

“Well, to make a long story short, I wasn’t born in Fódlan,” Claude started. He raised a hand, gesturing at himself. “Before you say anything, my mother was the daughter of Duke Riegan, so I am still the legitimate heir of House Riegan. My father… is the current king of Almyra.”

Lorenz wasn’t sure what the look on his face must have been, but it was less than composed. Inadvertently, his gaze swept over Claude.

“You’re a prince?” He said, incredulously.

“The crown prince, to be more specific.”

“You—you certainly don’t behave like a prince.” Lorenz furrowed his eyebrows, remembering the poise that Dimitri and Edelgard had always carried themselves with before the war. Or had tried to, at least.

“It’s not quite the same in Almyra as it is over here. I wasn’t exactly raised in luxury,” Claude shrugged. “Most people would probably call my upbringing… harsh. To tell you the truth, I was treated as an outsider because of my bloodline. When I came to Fódlan and it was clear the sentiment went both ways, I decided it would be better if I just kept quiet about it.”

Lorenz folded his hands in his lap, staring down at them.

A prince.

His father had never trusted Claude. He had made no secret—at least in private—of his belief that Claude was some fraudulent party aiming to sneak control of the Alliance out from under the nose of House Gloucester. He could never account for the presence of Claude’s Crest, of course, but that had hardly seemed enough to convince him. 

Lorenz had bought into it, despite how often he found Claude to be… insightful. Dedicated. As often as his casual demeanor had gotten on his nerves, he couldn’t seem to help liking Claude a little more every time he spoke to him. He was… charismatic. Strikingly so.

It all made sense now, didn’t it?

“I’m afraid I’ve… behaved inappropriately towards you,” Lorenz said, softly.

Claude’s eyebrows raised. Looked like that wasn’t the response he was expecting.

“Aww, Lorenz, don’t say that,” he said, leaning forward. “I liked you keeping me on my toes. I had fun.”

Lorenz shook his head.

“Balancing the futures of two conflicting nations sounds like a nearly impossible task to handle alone,” he continued, finally looking up at Claude. “You’ve been working much harder than I’ve ever given you credit for.”

Claude met his gaze, and for a moment he looked almost vulnerable. As if Lorenz had found something Claude hadn’t quite meant to show him. Then it was gone, replaced by his usual cheerful expression. Somehow, Lorenz almost felt disappointed.

“Wow, did you put something weird in the tea, or what?” Claude joked. “That actually sounded like a compliment—”

“I want to help,” Lorenz interjected.

He was sure now that he had managed to catch Claude off guard, because it took yet another pause before he spoke again.

“You know, you dress it up in so much fancy language, but deep down you really just want to help people, huh?” Claude grinned. “Have to say, I like that about you.”

“It—it is my responsibility as a noble, yes.” For some reason, Lorenz could feel a flush creeping onto his face. He busied himself with his teacup to hide it. His tea had started to go cold.

“Right,” Claude said. “In that case, who am I to turn down Fódlan’s finest?”

“I’m serious, Claude.” Lorenz poured more tea into his cup, in a halfhearted attempted to warm it. “I’ll agree to take over as the representative of the Alliance territories, but I hope you wouldn’t just abandon Fódlan.”

“After all the work we’ve done? Fódlan’s like my baby.” Claude grinned again. “A baby that needs to be carefully introduced to the outside world.”

“So you want to improve relations between Fódlan and Almyra.” Lorenz took a tentative sip of his tea. It was warm again, but now it wasn’t sweet enough. “Do you have a plan to do that?”

“I’m still working out all the details.” Claude tapped his chin. “Although I was considering trying my father’s method.”

“Your father’s method?”

“Anyway, we can’t start playing until all the pieces are in place.” Claude waved a hand dismissively. “I need to be in Almyra, and Fódlan needs to be cleaned up. As long as I can count on you for the second part, that’s enough for now.”

“Of course,” Lorenz said, noting the Claude had dodged the question. Again. Fortunately for Claude, pushing on that one didn’t seem particularly important at the moment. “Then I suppose I’ll see you again?”

Claude nodded.

“I’ll drop in on you sometime when everything’s moved a little further along,” he said, standing up to stretch. “But now, I really should get going. It’s a long flight back to Almyra.”

“Hm. Don’t get shot down by bandits on that conspicuously bright wyvern of yours,” Lorenz said, leaning over to collect the fine dishware.

“Aww, you don’t have to worry about me, Lorenz. No one can hit me when I’m up there.”

“Only because you perform such ridiculous maneuvers.”

“And look great doing it.” Claude winked.

“Hmph.”

With a somewhat extravagant swish of his clothing, Claude turned to leave—then, just outside the doorframe, he stopped.

“Lorenz?”

Lorenz looked up.

“Thanks,” Claude continued, and the smile that flashed across his face felt genuine. “Glad to know I can count on you.”

“Oh.” Lorenz blinked. “Of—of course.”

Claude raised a hand in a casual wave, and then he was gone—leaving the room feeling somehow empty and still, compared to the moment before.

Lorenz set down the saucers he’d been stacking, and pressed a hand gently to his chest.

His heart was pounding.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lorenz spends this whole chapter pining

It was evening. A full moon shone through the window, bathing Lorenz’s bedroom in a gentle silver light. Lorenz shut the door behind him, allowing himself a sigh of relief at his first moment of respite that day.

Several months had passed since he had last spoken with Claude, and the post-war restoration effort had been a near constant. Despite his unceremonious rise to leader of the Alliance, his policies had gone over well, and it was easy enough to convince others to support the new king of United Fódlan. Still, it felt as if making sure everything ran smoothly took up every waking moment of his time.

Lorenz had been prepared for that, of course. He was well aware of the responsibility his position entailed, and he was determined to lead to the best of his ability.

There was just one problem. One thing he hadn’t prepared for.

He couldn’t stop thinking about Claude.

It didn’t bother him when he was occupied with work, but when he had a free moment his thoughts would start to drift. From replaying parts of their last conversation, to their time together during the war, to—

Well. He hesitated to call it daydreaming. ‘Daydreaming’ was entirely beneath Lorenz Hellman Gloucester.

Still, it was bothering him. Guilt, perhaps, at how long it had taken him to realize that Claude’s intentions were noble. Or the prejudice Lorenz had unknowingly held against him. Except that didn’t explain why he kept thinking about Claude’s smile.

Maybe he just needed to get it out of his head, so to speak.

Lorenz’s gaze fell to his desk. Someone—Raphael, most likely—had left him a plate, a mixed spread of cheese, fruit, and cured meat. Lorenz had tried to tell him that his eating habits should not be a knight’s concern, but Raphael had just laughed and smacked him on the back almost hard enough to knock him over. It was a kind gesture, even if he didn’t really feel like eating. Lorenz would have to thank him later.

For now, he pushed the plate aside. He opened a drawer in the desk, retrieving a notebook.

Poetry was something Lorenz preferred to keep to himself. It wasn’t so much that it was embarrassing as simply too… personal. A baring of his soul, too intimate to hand out casually. He flipped to a recent page, most of which had been crossed out or re-written.

He had been struggling with this one for a while.

Lorenz tapped his pen to the paper a few times, before setting it down. Perhaps it was easier to think on his feet.

“Still water belies a tumultuous current,” he mumbled to himself, wandering away from his desk and out onto the balcony. “Helplessly, I am swept along…”

He leaned on the railing. The hazy peaks of Fódlan’s Throat were just visible over the horizon, cutting a dark line against the night sky.

“It still doesn’t seem right when it doesn’t rhyme,” he sighed.

“I don’t know, I like it,” said a voice behind him.

Lorenz whipped around, a Sagittae spell snapping instinctively at his fingertips.

Just above him, Claude was perched lazily on the edge of the roof like a particularly smug gargoyle. He raised a hand in a slow wave.

“Hey, Lorenz,” he said. “Good to see you.”

“Claude!?” Lorenz choked. He let the spell fizzle out in his hand. “When did you—how did you get here?”

“I flew here, of course.” There was a shuffling sound, before the head of Claude’s wyvern lolled out from the shadows behind him. “She’s only the fastest wyvern in Almyra. Aren’t you, girl? Aren’t you the fastest?”

He cooed, playfully rubbing the wyvern’s nose. She chirped in response.

Lorenz stared at them in disbelief.

“And you didn’t consider going to the door?”

“Nah.” Claude leaned forward, hopping neatly down to the balcony. “I said I’d drop in, right?”

“I didn’t think you meant it literally,” Lorenz said, exasperated. “If my father finds you here, you know he will assume the worst.”

“What, like I’m going to try to assassinate you?” Claude stepped over, joining Lorenz in leaning on the railing. “Seems counter-intuitive after I just handed you the Alliance, don’t you think?”

“Perhaps.” Still, part of him wasn’t sure it was worth risking that interaction. “What are you doing here, then?”

Claude propped his chin up on his hand.

“I wanted to check on you, for one.”

Lorenz blinked.

“Check on me?”

“I heard that you’ve been turning away suitors. Couldn’t help wondering why.”

“Oh.” he frowned. “And—who told you that?”

“Hilda.”

Of course it was Hilda.

“I’ve—I’ve just been feeling a little overwhelmed from the restoration effort. That’s all.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t entirely the truth, either.

“Really?” Claude grinned. “Hilda seemed to think it was because someone had already caught your eye.”

Lorenz was quiet, for a long moment.

“Claude.”

“Yes?”

“You mean to tell me,” he started, slowly. “That you flew from Almyra to the Gloucester estate and waited on my roof all evening, so that you could follow up on gossip?”

“Well, when you put it that way…”

Lorenz put his hands to his face and took a slow, controlled breath

“You are completely insufferable.”

“Right, right.” Claude was still grinning. “So, who is it?”

“Even if your absurd theory was correct, what makes you think that I would tell you?”

“You don’t have to.” Claude shrugged. “I figured I’d just throw things out and see how you reacted.”

“Ridiculous.” Lorenz turned his head, letting his hair fall in a curtain that obscured his face.

“Aw, hey, that’s cheating.” Claude leaned forward, reaching up and brushing Lorenz’s hair back out of the way.

Their eyes met.

Claude was so close, now. The moonlight outlined his features, glinting off his piercings—he had a new one, in the cartilage of the same ear. Lorenz had to admit, it looked nice. He looked nice. No, more than that. 

He was stunning.

Lorenz’s breath caught in his throat. Claude’s hand was still in his hair. He could just lean forward—

“So,” Claude said. “Is it somebody from our class?”

Lorenz swatted his hand away.

“If you’re quite finished—” he muttered. His face felt hot. He only hoped Claude couldn’t see it.

“Okay, okay, I get it.” Claude held his hands up in surrender. Then he reached back into his bag. “Fortunately, that wasn’t the only reason I wanted to stop by. Here.”

He held out a bundle of papers. Lorenz took them.

“My father’s finally looking to retire. By the end of the year it’ll be me on the throne,” Claude continued, lacing his fingers behind his head. “I’ve been making preparations to hold a peace summit at Fódlan’s Locket.”

“And these are…?” Lorenz thumbed through the papers. It was too dark outside to make out much of the writing.

“Negotiation proposals. Since you’ll be there, I figured you should be prepared.” Claude paused. “Might not want to tell anybody else, though. It could look bad if people think we’re in cahoots.”

“Hm.” Lorenz turned. “You had best come inside, then. In case you’ve written anything ill-advised.”

“Sure. Maybe you can be a gracious host and offer your guest something to eat,” Claude said, following him. “I’ve only been flying all day.”

Lorenz shot him a glare, but when he sat back down at his desk, he pushed the plate Raphael had left over to him.

Then he turned his attention to the papers. As Claude had said, they were negotiation proposals, and they were surprisingly thorough—a peace treaty, promises to offer reinforcement against any remaining Empire insurgents, agreements to foster trade—there was even a proposal to establish new trade routes by using the Sword of the Creator to cut through a mountain. That one likely wouldn’t fly in practice, but had to admire Claude’s creativity. Even if he would never admit it.

Speaking of, his gaze had drifted back to Claude. There was something soothing about being around Claude when he was eating, although he likely would feel the same about any of their old classmates. Before his time at Garreg Mach, meals had at best been a moment of time to himself, and at worst an obligation to listen to his father chastise either him or someone else about their shortcomings. Now, meals were actually something worth enjoying.

He was so caught up in his thoughts that it took him a moment to realize Claude wasn’t looking at him. Instead, he was staring down at something, his head tilted slightly to the side. Lorenz turned to see what it was that had his attention.

The notebook filled with his poetry was still open on the desk.

Lorenz immediately slammed it shut.

“Do not,” he hissed, his face suddenly burning.

“Do not what?” Claude asked around a mouthful of fruit. “If you didn’t want anybody to see it, you shouldn’t have left it out.”

“I can leave things out in my own goddamn room without expecting them to be pried into,” Lorenz snapped back.

Claude raised an eyebrow.

“… Sorry.” He looked genuinely surprised. “Don’t think I’ve ever heard you swear before.”

Lorenz’s temper evaporated.

“I’ve… I apologize. I’ve had a long day.” He rubbed the bridge of his nose. “I will have to look over your proposals in more detail later.”

“Hey, I’m pretty tired myself,” Claude said, stretching. “Maybe we should both get some sleep.”

“That would be wise, yes.” Lorenz started to stand—

Then he stopped, because Claude was stripping out of his shirt.

“What are you doing?”

“Obviously I’m sleeping here. You aren’t going to throw me out, right?” Claude said, draping his clothes over the back of a chair.

“This is my room.” Lorenz’s voice came out a little strained. “I can set you up in one of the guest rooms.”

“Didn’t you say yourself that we’d be in trouble if your father found out I was here?” Claude grinned. He kicked off his boots. “Besides, your bed looks like it could fit four of you. You don’t need that much space.”

Inhale. Exhale. Lorenz tried not to let the thought of having half-naked Claude in his bed go any further than that.

“… Fine,” he said, finally. A blush was creeping back onto his face. “You’re lucky I’m too tired to argue with you. I’m going to change. Do not touch anything.”

“I’ll try to resist.” Claude flopped back onto the bed like he owned it.

Lorenz had shot him another glare, but when he returned Claude was thankfully still in the same place he had left him. He blew out the oil lamp lighting the room, before taking the other side of the bed.

“Don’t you get hot sleeping in all that?” Claude said, rolling over to face him.

“A shirt, you mean?” Lorenz looked at him. “I’m surprised you don’t get cold.”

“You get cold when you sleep? I always overheat at night.” Claude pushed back the thick blanket, as if to emphasize his point.

“Strange, I usually wake up cold.” Lorenz propped his head up on his hand, thoughtfully. “I suppose Almyra must be warmer than Fódlan.”

“Only during the day. It actually gets pretty cold at night.” Claude paused. “Maybe you should come see it sometime.”

“Perhaps.” Something fluttered in Lorenz’s chest at the thought. He couldn’t tell if it was curiosity, or the idea of spending more time with Claude. “For diplomatic reasons, of course.”

“… Right.”

They fell silent.

Lorenz couldn’t help himself; his eyes kept getting drawn back to Claude, or at least what he could make out in the dim light. Claude was fit and lightly battle-scarred, a few from injuries Lorenz remembered. There was one that he didn’t, though—a faded stab wound near his collarbone that had obviously been deep.

This time, Claude noticed him staring.

“Like what you see?” He teased.

“Ah, forgive me for asking. That scar,” Lorenz indicated, admittedly deflecting from getting caught. “What happened?”

“This one?” Claude lifted his hand to the spot. “When I was… twelve, I think, I was out at a market and a man came at me with a knife. Lucky for me he didn’t hit anything vital, I don’t think he realized how short I was up close.”

Lorenz’s head snapped up.

“You… you were twelve. You had attempts on your life when you were twelve?” He couldn’t hide the shock in his voice.

“Well, yeah. A lot of people hated what I was. You know.”

“Didn’t that bother you?”

“I guess I got used to it.” Claude paused, looking up at the ceiling. “Although I started sleeping with a weapon, after that.”

Lorenz was silent. How horrifying. To try to assassinate a child—

Something occurred to him.

“I haven’t seen you with a weapon all night.”

“Oh, yeah. I left everything with my wyvern.” Claude turned, and his eyes met Lorenz. “I mean, I trust you.”

Once, during the war, a demonic beast had caught Lorenz by surprise. Its claws had slammed into his chest, knocking him off his horse. He had hit the ground so hard he couldn’t breathe.

Somehow, it didn’t hit him half as hard as Claude’s words did.

“Claude, I…”

His thoughts were reeling. He felt compelled to say something, but whatever it was seemed to be stuck. Maybe it wasn’t words. He was half convinced his heart had stopped.

“I… I’m sorry I snapped at you,” he finished, lamely.

“Hey, don’t worry about it. I should have asked first.” Claude smiled. No, his heart was still beating. “I did like it, though. Writing for somebody special?”

Lorenz threw a pillow at him.

Claude laughed. It was a pleasant sound.

“Sorry, I’ll stop,” he said. “Anyway, I should sleep before you actually get fed up with me. Good night, Lorenz.”

“Good night,” Lorenz echoed.

Despite his physical exhaustion, Lorenz was struggling to fall asleep. Next to him, Claude’s breathing had turned soft and even. When Lorenz sat up, he didn’t seem to stir.

He reached over, gingerly brushing a few errant strands of hair out of Claude’s face. There was no mistaking it now, was there?

He was falling for Claude.

The realization made him feel at once elated and hollow. His father may have already stepped down as the head of House Gloucester, but Lorenz would still have to face his ire. He would approve of Lorenz marrying a commoner long before he would ever approve of Claude. Besides, Claude had his own goals—it was hard to say how far Lorenz could follow them.

He rolled over, facing away from Claude.

No. It would be better if he didn’t allow himself to think about it.

No matter how he felt.

Eventually, he drifted off. When he awoke in the morning, Claude was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> bonus content: i was going to name claude's wyvern, but i imagine he would either name her something elegant and meaningful with a basis in mythology, or he would name her chicken nugget. i couldn't decide which i liked better
> 
> again, thank you for reading! next up is fódlan's locket


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh wow, sorry for the holdup on this one, this semester really got the better of me, but now it's finally finished. thank you so much for all the sweet comments, i hope you enjoy the conclusion!

Lorenz slowed his horse to a halt in front of the looming gates of Fódlan’s Locket. The imposing fortress seemed more inviting than the last time he saw it, well-lit and decorated with banners representing both Almyra and the Leicester Alliance. It was reassuring, in some way, to see what had previously been a site of conflict turned into a symbol of peace.

Unfortunately, it did little to quell his nerves.

He had been preparing for this, even relished the chance to make real progress for the people of Fódlan, and yet—Lorenz couldn’t shake the feeling that something was coming to an end.

A guard saluted him, motioning to take his horse. Lorenz dismounted, then ushered towards the fortress’s main hall. A few others attending the summit had arrived with him—Lorenz recognized most of them as representatives of noble houses around Fódlan, understandably eager to be present at such a monumental event.

He took a moment to admire the fortress as he followed them inside. It was quite an elegant structure, nestled as it was between the mountaintops. Fitting for a name as charming as Fódlan’s Locket. One of Claude’s propositions had suggested converting it into a border checkpoint and historical site, instead of a military stronghold.

… Again, his thoughts were drifting back to Claude.

He had tried to push his feelings out of his mind, focus on the task at hand, yet still they tormented him the entire trip. Would Claude have reason to see him again, after everything was said and done? Claude’s political ambitions were noble, to be sure, but was Lorenz really anything more than a means to an end?

Did it even matter?

The question made his heart ache.

“Lorenz!”

Hearing his own name snapped him out of his thoughts, just in time for Hilda to tackle him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Hilda!” Lorenz wheezed. He was sure he felt something pop. How was this woman so strong? “It’s—it’s wonderful to see you—"

“It’s been too long!” Hilda chirped, thankfully releasing him. “You really should come visit me more!”

“I should, I apologize.” Lorenz smiled. “I’m afraid the restoration of Fódlan has been commanding all of my attention.”

“I dunno, I bet I can think of something else that’s been commanding your attention,” Hilda said, tapping a hand to her face.

“I’m—not sure what you mean,” Lorenz said.

Hilda gave him a smug look. Before she could clarify, Marianne popped up behind her.

“Hello, Lorenz,” Marianne said, softly. “It’s good to see you again.”

“Marianne! I am pleased to see that you look well,” Lorenz beamed, bowing his head briefly in greeting. “You are here for the peace summit, I presume?”

“Yes, I’m here to represent Margrave Edmund.” Marianne sounded sincere, but the way she pressed herself close to Hilda’s side, a hand laid on her arm, suggested to Lorenz that it might not be the only reason she came. He was aware that they had grown close during the war, and yet—he wasn’t sure he had ever seen Marianne look so happy.

He made a mental note to question Hilda about it later.

“It will be reassuring to have both of you at the negotiating table,” Lorenz said. He meant it—he hadn’t realized how long he had been apart from his friends. Besides, it was something other than Claude he could focus on. “It’s a shame House Ordelia renounced its claim to nobility. I would have liked to see Lysithea again.”

“Who said I’d miss this?” A girlish voice piped up behind him.

Lorenz turned. Lysithea grinned up at him. She had an entire tray of multicolored pastries in her hands.

“If I’d known this would be a class reunion, I would have been sure to bring you all gifts,” Lorenz said, fondly. “But I didn’t think you had much interest in politics, Lysithea.”

“Oh, I don’t.” Lysithea popped a pastry into her mouth. “I’m just here for the party.”

“The party?”

“After the summit! Didn’t you know?” Hilda chimed in. “The Almyrans love having feasts, and the people of Fódlan love a formal ball, so we’re doing both! You know, as a show of solidarity.”

“I had not been informed, no.” Lorenz frowned. Claude had failed to mention anything about a party.

“Funny. I would have expected you to be all over a ball, Lorenz,” Lysithea said, thoughtfully. “I thought it was your idea until Hilda told me otherwise.”

“I assure you, I did not plan any part of this,” Lorenz responded.

“Does it matter who planned it?” Hilda winked at him. “It’ll be fun!” 

“It’s just nice that we get to spend time together, isn’t it?” Marianne said. Her smile was angelic. “The Edmund estate is so far north, I don’t have many chances to visit everyone.”

“You are absolutely correct, Marianne.” Hilda’s concerning comments aside, Lorenz felt a surge of warmth. He really had missed them, hadn’t he? “We must be sure to make the most of this moment. But first, we have a duty to attend to.”

“Hilda!”

Lorenz looked up to see an aggressively pink man bounding towards them. Lorenz had only met him before in passing, but his visage was unmistakable—

“General Holst.” Lorenz bowed. “I must thank you for agreeing to host the peace summit at Fódlan’s Locket.”

“I see you’ve found the guest of honor, Hilda!” Holst laughed, slinging a heavy arm around Lorenz’s shoulders. Was all of House Goneril like this? “Took you long enough! I’ve been getting tired of tussling with those Almyrans, it’s about time you worked something out!”

“I’m—glad to have your support,” Lorenz said, a touch strained.

“But of course! I am in your debt, after all.” Holst grinned. “Anything for the heroes who took down that Nemesis bastard!”

“Speaking of which, are you really alright to be running around like this, Holst?” Marianne said, worry in her voice. “You’re still recovering…”

“I’ll lose my mind if I have to rest any longer.” Holst waved a hand dismissively. “Besides, surely I can handle showing Duke Gloucester to the conference chamber!”

“Oh, that’s right, we’d better get going!” Hilda grabbed Lorenz’s hand, sounding unusually enthusiastic. “We don’t want to be late!”

They started off, with Hilda pointing out the grand hall where the orchestra had already begun to set up, Holst chattering about the history of the fortress, and Marianne and Lysithea in tow behind them. Their cheerfulness was contagious, and by the time they reached the conference chamber Lorenz had all but forgotten about his earlier anxiety.

A hush fell over the group.

Holst was the first to enter, stepping aside just past the doorway for Lorenz to follow.

“Presenting Duke Gloucester, leader of the Leicester Alliance,” Holst announced with a sweeping gesture.

The Almyran party had already arrived. Lorenz recognized Nader immediately. And—

His breath caught.

Claude.

Of course.

Claude _glittered._

The banner that was usually slung over his shoulder had been replaced by one hemmed with fur, depicting the flag of Almyra in gold ink. It trailed elegantly behind him. Golden threads were woven into his clothing, catching the light as he turned away from the window he’d been standing at. A piece of decorative armor on his chest appeared to be crafted from wyvern scales.

He was even wearing a circlet, set with a green gemstone.

Lorenz swallowed.

“Duke Gloucester.” Claude quickly rounded the table, bowing low and taking Lorenz’s hand in his. “Thank you for agreeing to negotiate.”

“I should be thanking you, your Majesty,” Lorenz said. His heart was hammering in his chest. “It was the aid of the Almyran army that allowed us to end the war so swiftly.”

“I’m honored that Fódlan’s finest thinks so highly of our contribution.” Claude shot him a glance and, for a brief moment, brought Lorenz’s hand to brush his lips. “Our countries have been at each other’s throats for too long. Imagine what we could accomplish together.”

Lorenz’s head was spinning. Claude had mentioned he wanted any involvement between them to seem inconspicuous. Was this Claude’s idea of inconspicuous?

“It—it would be an honor to work with you.” It was a miracle that Lorenz was able to keep his composure. “For our closest neighbor to become our ally would be a great boon to our recovering nation.”

“I feel the same.” Claude straightened up, waving a hand for Lorenz to take a seat at the table. “Please, join me.”

With some relief, Lorenz sat down. Claude took a seat at one end of the table, with General Holst and Hilda at the other. He caught Hilda’s eye, who shot him a grin.

Lorenz managed a smile back.

He could do this.

All things considered, the peace summit went spectacularly. Fódlan and Almyra were formally allies, and many of Claude’s policies had gone over well—even the one about cutting a trade route through the mountains. Holst had seemed particularly enthusiastic about that one.

Afterwards, Lorenz had been whisked off to the feast without much chance to speak with Claude, at least outside of the charade they’d been putting on at the negotiating table. He spotted him a few times, having some animated conversation with Hilda across the dining hall, but it seemed his every opportunity to reach them was intercepted by some other attendee wanting Lorenz’s attention. It wouldn’t do for the leader of the Alliance to deny them on such an important occasion, after all.

Still, though. Even just a word with Claude…

As the feast concluded and people began to flock to the ballroom floor, he hoped he might finally have a chance. But, again, before Lorenz could even look for Claude, someone else found him first.

It was Judith.

“You’ve really grown up, huh?” She said. It was hard to tell, but Lorenz thought he heard a hint of pride in her voice. “You almost sounded like real politicians in there.”

“Almost?” Lorenz frowned, but only a little. “I didn’t realize you were in attendance, Judith.”

“Oh, I was just there to watch. I figured I’d leave you kids to the negotiating.” Judith laughed. “So, when did you scheme all this up with Claude?”

“I have done nothing so uncouth as ‘scheming,’” Lorenz said, carefully. “It was as much a surprise to me as anyone to see Claude.”

It wasn’t a lie, even if it wasn’t quite what she meant.

“Come on, you two made such a good pair, I could’ve sworn you’d rehearsed it.” Judith waved a hand. “You know, I thought it was strange that Claude was dressed like that, before I saw you.”

Lorenz blinked.

“What do you mean?”

“It hardly seemed like Claude’s style. He certainly never showed up to an Alliance meeting in a circlet and a fur-lined mantle, and from what I know of Claude’s father, he wasn’t fond of looking so flashy either.” Judith paused. “But when I saw the face you were making, I figured it was to impress you.”

What?

“That’s—that’s ridiculous.” Lorenz could feel his face heating up. “Why would Claude…?”

“Why don’t you ask him yourself?” Judith nodded. “Here he is now.”

Lorenz whipped around. 

Sure enough, there was Claude, looking as brilliant as the chandelier that lit up the room. He held out a hand towards Lorenz.

“May I have this dance?” Claude asked.

It occurred to Lorenz that the orchestra had already started to play. He glanced back at Judith.

“Don’t let me hold you up, Gloucester boy.” She patted him on the shoulder, before turning with a wave. “You have fun.”

Lorenz took a deep breath.

“... I suppose I can indulge you this one time, Claude,” Lorenz said, taking his hand. Even through his gloves, it felt warm.

“What happened to ‘your Majesty’?” Claude joked, pulling Lorenz out onto the floor.

“Are you going to call me Duke Gloucester all the time?”

“Do you want me to?”

Lorenz didn’t answer, focusing instead on guiding Claude’s form. Claude had never been particularly practiced during their academy days, but he seemed to be managing for now. Perhaps he had improved.

“I’ve been waiting all night to talk to you, you know,” Claude said, after a few moments.

“So you asked me to dance?”

“Where else would you go at a crowded party to have a moment alone?” Claude grinned.

“... I suppose you have a point.” Lorenz was only vaguely aware of the other couples moving past them. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of Hilda all but lifting Marianne off her feet in a twirl. “What did you want to speak about?”

“I wanted to thank you,” Claude continued. Lorenz felt him gently squeeze his hand. “For a long time, this was little more than a pipe dream. So, thank you for letting me drag you along. I couldn’t have done it without you.”

“Hmph. I hardly think I would allow you to drag me anywhere.” Lorenz smiled. “As I recall, I volunteered.”

“Well, you volunteered to do something I had already suggested, if we’re being technical,” Claude said. “But that’s not the point. What I’m trying to say is you’ve done so much for me, I want to do something for you.”

Yes, Claude’s dancing had improved. Not only was he keeping up with Lorenz, something he had been unable to do when they were younger, but he was so energetic that Lorenz had to focus on keeping pace with him instead.

He still caught Claude glancing down at his feet once or twice, though.

“I hardly believe I require a reward,” Lorenz said. “It is my responsibility to do what is best for the people.”

“How noble of you, as usual,” Claude remarked. “That’s what I mean, you know? You do everything for the people, or the future of House Gloucester—it’s always for someone else. Not that I don’t admire your selflessness, but you deserve something for yourself.”

Lorenz frowned. Something about Claude’s tone was markedly mischievous.

“What are you getting at, Claude?”

“I’ve been thinking,” Claude leaned back, prompting Lorenz to follow him into a dip. “I would leave everything and run away with you, if you wanted.”

Lorenz almost dropped him.

“What—what kind of absurd—” Lorenz sputtered. “Is this your idea of a joke?”

“I’m being serious,” Claude said when he was safely back on his feet. “It’s what my mother did. I always admired her for it.”

If it weren’t for the other couples nearly running into them, Lorenz would have stopped dead on the ballroom floor. He was barely aware of the music. Even his own thoughts felt muted. All he could hear was—

_Run away with you._

Was that... a confession?

Lorenz decided he couldn’t take any more.

He grabbed Claude by the wrist, and without any further warning dragged him briskly off the dance floor towards the nearest exit.

“Lorenz? Hey—” he heard Claude say behind him. He didn’t look back.

A door in the main hall led out to the courtyard. It was deserted, as a chill breeze coming down from the mountaintops cut through the night air. Lorenz found he didn’t mind it, after all that dancing. The courtyard, too, had changed since Lorenz had last seen it, now a maze-like garden overgrown with night-blooming flowers.

He led Claude through them until they were just out of sight of the door. When he stopped, he didn’t let go of Claude’s wrist.

He turned, then.

“Oh, I guess we could’ve just gone outside to talk, huh?” Claude said, rubbing the back of his head. “But I knew you liked dancing, so—”

“Claude.”

“Yes?”

Lorenz kissed him.

He had meant for it to be a chaste kiss, but Claude slid an arm around his shoulders and pulled him in close. By the time they parted, Lorenz was breathless.

“You’re impossible,” Lorenz said. “I once believed that forgoing marrying for love would be worth the sacrifice, but you’ve made it… more difficult than I expected.”

Claude quirked an eyebrow.

“So you’d run away with me, then?”

“I hate to admit you forced me to consider it.” Lorenz ran his thumb across Claude’s wrist. “But I—I couldn’t, Claude. I can’t.”

Surprisingly, Claude smiled.

“I knew you would say that.”

“Why ask, then?” Lorenz looked up at him, puzzled. “If this was a ploy to taunt me, Claude—”

“Hey, it’s nothing like that.” Claude wrapped a hand around Lorenz’s and began stepping back, pulling Lorenz with him. “I wanted you to know how I felt.”

Lorenz was silent. He had imagined a million different ways this conversation might go, and yet none of them were like this.

That was just like Claude, wasn’t it?

“Impossible,” he managed, finally.

“Is it?” Claude said. He seemed to know where he was going, so Lorenz absently fell into step with him. “You know you look beautiful in the moonlight?”

Oh.

Running away with him had never been more tempting.

“I’d say you have a silver tongue, but gold is more your color, isn’t it?” Lorenz said, fondly.

There was a gazebo nearby, marginally more sheltered from the wind than the maze of hedges. Claude led Lorenz inside, to sit with him on the bench. Lorenz didn’t let go of his hand, though. Not yet.

“Do you really think it’s impossible?” Claude stretched an arm back over the railing, plucking a large white flower off the overgrown tangle of vines. It wasn’t a rose, but it was lovely all the same.

“I may no longer believe that I must marry one of equal status, but I cannot simply abandon my obligations.” Lorenz looked down at his hands.

“And what if you didn’t have to abandon your obligations?”

“I can hardly imagine how you expect me to run away with you without abandoning my obligations, Claude.”

“No, I know you’d never agree to running away.” Gently, Claude tucked the flower behind Lorenz’s ear. “But you want to make the world a better place, right? What would you be losing, then, if you stayed with me? The king of Almyra and the leader of the Alliance—imagine what that would mean for our people.”

Lorenz blinked up at him.

“But my—my father—”

“Lorenz, I’m the king of Almyra.” Claude grinned. “I don’t give a damn about what your father thinks.”

Lorenz reached up, brushing the petals of the flower in his hair.

“... Kiss me again,” he said.

Claude did.

He slid into Lorenz’s lap, winding his hands in Lorenz’s hair. Lorenz found his hands wandering, too, from Claude’s shoulders, to the back of his neck, until he was running his fingers along the golden circlet Claude was still wearing.

“You were planning this all along, were you not?” Lorenz said, between breaths. “Master tactician.”

“Not in so many words,” Claude said. “But I’m not going to complain when everything I want lines up so nicely.”

“Everything you want, hmm?” Lorenz smiled against Claude’s lips. “I suppose I could say the same.”

“I’ll even do what I can to match your noble sensibilities.” Claude winked. “I might not have been raised in the lap of luxury, but I’m certainly on one now.”

A beat.

Then Lorenz started to laugh. He couldn’t stop himself. The more it sunk in, the harder he laughed, until he was nearly sobbing into Claude’s shoulder.

When he was finally able to calm himself enough to look up again, Claude was giving him a very soft look. Even in the dim light, there was color visible on his cheeks.

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard you laugh like that.” Claude said, quietly. 

“I hope your offer was not entirely in jest,” Lorenz said, wiping his eyes. “Truthfully, I don’t think I could return to a world without you.”

“Trust me,” Claude breathed. “I love you, Lorenz. I’ve never been more serious about anything in my life.”

It was Lorenz’s turn to blush, although he was sure his face had been tinged pink the entire evening. Despite the cold, Lorenz wasn’t sure he could feel much warmer.

“Then my heart is yours, for as long as you’d wish to keep it.” Lorenz tilted his forehead against Claude’s, his fingers twining in his hair. “I love you, too.”

Claude smiled. There was a long moment of comfortable, serene silence.

“... We’ll have to go back to the party at some point,” Claude said, eventually. “But would you mind letting them suffer without us for a little longer?”

Lorenz smirked back at him.

“I would like nothing better.”

“I—I don’t really think we should be watching them,” Marianne said, fidgeting with a button on the sleeve of her blouse. “It doesn’t seem right.”

“Come on, Marianne, it’s just for a moment,” Hilda said, looking up from leaning over the edge of the wall, towering over the courtyard. “I spent two hours helping Claude pick out that outfit, not to mention convincing Holst to help him practice his dancing—I’ve gotta make sure it worked!”

“I just don’t want to intrude…” Mariane muttered.

“I promise I won’t tease them too hard, okay?” Hilda continued. Then she held out a hand. “Anyway. Pay up, Lysithea.”

“I was sure Claude would’ve been the one to kiss him first,” Lysithea grumbled, dropping a handful of coins and wrapped candies into Hilda’s outstretched palm. “Well, at least they’ll stop being so insufferable now.”

“Or they’ll get worse.” Hilda grinned.

“... I’m happy for them,” Marianne said, softly. “Even if they do get worse.”

“Of course!” Hilda beamed. “No matter how much sappy poetry I have to hear about now.”


End file.
